The Defector
by Pacacapa
Summary: Conclusion to "The Enforcer" and "The Deserter." Nate knows one man stands between him and Moreau. Eliot knows he can't go back. Neither knows how he has affected the other. AU. Minor supernatural themes. Major spoilers through the end of season three.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Defector

Summary: Final part of the trilogy with "The Enforcer" and "The Deserter." Nate knows one man stands between him and Moreau. Eliot knows he can't go back. Neither knows how he has affected the other. (Minor supernatural themes.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage or any of its characters; I'm just borrowing them for fun and no profit.

* * *

Nate paced back and forth through his apartment's main room, incredulous. "He went _where_ , Hardison?"

The hacker shrugged helplessly and stared pointedly at his computer. "I'm telling you, man. Same alias he used on Sophie took a plane flight from San Lorenzo to Oklahoma, USA, less than a week after the Farrell job. That was two days ago. I haven't found anything indicating he left, so as far as I can tell, Spencer's in some tiny little town an hour outside of Oklahoma City."

Nate couldn't make sense of it. Why would Moreau's top enforcer travel so far away from Moreau, and to such an insignificant place, when he _knew_ Leverage was still going after his boss? Nate gave a frustrated sigh, and finally said, "Well, sounds like we are going to have to follow him, then."

Sophie choked just a little on her tea, and Parker's head appeared behind the kitchen counter. Hardison gave a rather unmanly squeak. "Are you kidding me, Nate? A backwoods town in Oklahoma? Don't you remember what I said after that job in Nebraska - you know, the one we had to _abandon_ because we got in over our heads with that ring of fighters? _No more small towns!_ We ain't equipped to handle 'em."

Nate gave a dry, humorless laugh. "It's not like we can ask him to go somewhere else so we can con him more easily."

"And that's another thing! How are we supposed to con this guy, hmm? He knew our faces _before_ we even got the last one underway!"

"So we get someone new."

Hardison stared in disbelief, dumbfounded. "You do realize this guy ate our lunches in our own area of expertise, and now you want to go after him on his home turf. C'mon, man, seriously?"

"Do you want to take down Moreau or not?"

Nate's deadpan did nothing to calm Hardison down. If anything, it seemed to exasperate him more. "Spencer's in a tiny town in Oklahoma. I bet they don't even have wifi. He cain't get to us quickly from there. Just leave him and get Moreau while he's vulnerable."

"That's not going to work. Come on — we'll get someone he doesn't know, wire the places he frequents, you know, run surveillance. We don't even have to confront him yet."

"I do _not_ like this."

A glance around the room told Nate that the rest of the team agreed with Hardison. But ever since Nate had run into Spencer again — thereby identifying the subject of his visions — the visions hadn't let up. He had them almost every night as he slept, and often while he was awake. He knew they were directing him to the hitter again, but he didn't know what that was supposed to look like. For now, he was determined to bring the man down. If circumstances changed and allowed him another course of action, he might reconsider, but for now, that was the plan he was going to stick to. He gave his determined, I've-made-a-decision-and-you're-going-to-have-to-live-with-it-smile and said, "Let's go steal a deadly enforcer."

* * *

Sophie simply stared at Nate from her place at the dinner table. He was getting more reckless by the minute, and every step she took reminded her how dangerous that was. Wincing at the lingering burns on her feet, she hobbled over to intercept Nate before he could head back up to his room. After glancing over her shoulder to make sure the other two were occupied, she hissed, "You can't keep going like this, you know. After what happened last time we ran into Spencer, I can't believe you are sending this team after him again."

Nate just gave his fake, irritated smile — the one that said he was about to completely disregard everything that came out of her mouth. "Last time, we didn't know what we were up against. This time, we have the advantage, and we can build our con for him specifically." He added under his breath, "Just like he did for us."

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Nate, are you drunk? In what world do we have the advantage over him in some tiny town in the middle of nowhere? Did you not hear a word Hardison said, or was 'I can't accept defeat' too loud in your ears?" She sighed and shook her head. "Listen, as powerful as you are — as _we_ are — there are some things we just can't handle. If you keep recklessly endangering us, someday, your luck is going to run out." She put a hand on his face, because she could tell she was losing his attention. "It almost did, less than a week ago."

"We made it out just fine—"

"You call what he did to me _just fine?_ " Her voice suddenly jumped higher and louder, breaking through her facade of calm and revealing her true feelings. She didn't like to admit when a job had shaken her, but she liked the actual experience of it even less. And if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit she was afraid of Eliot Spencer. Afraid for herself, sure, but just as afraid for Hardison, for Parker, and, more than anything, for Nate. Nate was going to get himself killed, and she didn't even want to think about where that would leave the team. Where it would leave her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hardison and Parker staring at her. She hated emotional slips, but this time, it might work to her advantage. "Nate, please. Don't go after him." She took his hands and gazed into his eyes. "For me."

Nate stared at her for a long moment before he dropped her hands and sighed. "I'm sorry, Sophie, but we have to get Moreau, and that means getting Spencer."

Hardison seemed to sense the end of their conversation, because at that moment, he called over, "There ain't much to hack where he is, but I do have several charges to his debit card from a country bar in town, a couple of scattered ATM withdrawals, and some groceries here and there. Not much else, unfortunately."

Avoiding eye contact with Sophie, Nate made his way back over to the main screens. "So we send someone to the bar."

"Hate to break it to you, man, but we still don't have anyone he hasn't seen yet. Nothin' I can do until we get a grifter on the ground."

Sophie knew she wasn't going to be able to talk Nate out of this at this point, so the best she could do would be to call in someone who could handle herself, and who would be smart enough to pull out if Nate put her in too much danger. With a sigh, she said, "I know someone…"

* * *

Tara's eyes swept over the bar as she walked inside. Loud country music assaulted her ears and the smell of beer permeated the whole place. She couldn't even count how many cowboy hats and boots she saw, and at least half of them were engaged in some sort of line dance.

After a couple of minutes, she caught sight of the long, chestnut hair she was looking for poking out from under a dark brown ten-gallon hat. He sat alone at a table near a corner, with his back to the wall and a giant mug of beer in front of him. "Are you seeing this place, Hardison?" she whispered.

" _Every bit of it. Just keep your hands away from your neck so you don't block the camera."_

She jerked her hand away from where she had been subconsciously fiddling with her necklace, which held Hardison's hidden camera. Though there were mounted security cameras inside and outside, they were just for show and didn't actually record anything. "Dark brown hat, navy blue shirt, worn, dusty boots — is that the guy I'm looking for?"

" _Gimme a minute… yeah, that's him."_

Now that she had her mark, she snagged a shot of alcohol, hiked up her skirt, and made her way toward him, making sure to swish her hips and smile. Nate had said Spencer had a reputation for flirting with just about any attractive woman he saw, and that was going to be her way in.

As she approached, his eyes flicked toward her, so she smiled suggestively and said, "Hey there. You look lonely."

"Alone and lonely ain't the same thing."

She refused to let his curt tone deter her, and keep up her flirty demeanor. "Someone's in a bad mood tonight. Why don't you let me cheer you up?"

He gave her a level stare, unnervingly cold and calculating. "Because your walk says ex-marine, and you're trying to hide it which means you're trouble. You got no reason to be here, so I suggest you walk away."

Tara was sure she had never met him before. How did he know…? Still, it wasn't the first time she was caught off guard like this. She didn't miss a beat. Laughing, she brushed off his comments. "That was years ago, to pay for college—"

He rolled his eyes and stood abruptly. Without even another word to her he marched toward the back room, the one that said "Employees Only." Away from the rest of the cameras Hardison had set up, and out of her reach.

She huffed and put her hands on her hips. "That was completely fruitless, and now I'm burned. What in the world was that about?"

Nate's voice came through her ear. " _We're just going to have to dig around and find out."_

* * *

"What was that, Hardison?"

Hardison threw up his hands in frustration. "Look Nate, I told you already — we're way out of our depth here. What was I supposed to be able to do about that? He saw right through her, and that's that. Ain't nothin' I can do about it."

His nerves had been on edge ever since they started this job. No, he'd been on edge ever since Nate disappeared on the _last_ job with Spencer, and now here they were chasing the man yet again. And Nate expected him to work some sort of magic, as usual, and what was he supposed to do now?

As if to answer, Nate said, "Alright, then, dig deeper. We need to know why he's here. I want contacts, phone calls, money transfers, transportation routes, everything. You know what to do."

"Better than you," Hardison muttered, so Nate couldn't hear him. Nevertheless, he got to work.

Hardison didn't know how long it had been by the time he finally pulled together enough info on Spencer, but he wasn't any happier now that it was done. The results were just plain confusing. Once the team had gathered around the bar, he began his usual debriefing, complete with surveillance photos he had taken of Spencer at various places.

"So I started my research under the assumption Spencer was using a fake name. Turns out, he wasn't — but he made it look like he was. Once I finally sorted out that little knot, I discovered he actually grew up here, and still has lots of family in town.

"Now, as far as transportation goes, he took a plane from San Lorenzo to New York, drove to Boston, flew to Dallas, and then drove up here to Oklahoma." At the blank stares from the others, he explained how he had reached that conclusion. "He used an alias on the flight from Boston to Dallas and I can only assume he drove the rest of the way, because I can't find anything else.

"His last known phone is disabled, but after digging into his relatives' recent calls, I found a burn phone that lines up with all of his known locations. Assuming that it is in fact his, he hasn't contacted anyone _except_ said relatives.

"Oh, and by the way, he hasn't received a dime electronically." He crossed his arms with all of his frustrated sass and raised his eyebrows pointedly at Nate. "So, tell me, mastermind, what _am_ I supposed to do with that?"

Nate frowned and asked, "Did you figure out why he's here?"

Hardison rolled his eyes. "What else would he be doing in some tiny little town in the midwest? No work for a guy like him there, I assure you. He's visiting his family, Nate! Look, you may not be on good terms with your dad, but looks like even hitters love their mamas." He widened his eyes to emphasize the attitude, just to drive his point home. He shrugged and turned back to the screen. "Or, little sisters, in this case." He pressed a button on his clicker and displayed a picture of Spencer's little sister — now an adult — with her 6-year-old son. "He's been staying with them since he got here."

Finally, a hint of a smile spread across Nate's face. "Then she's our way in. What do you know about her?"

Hardison smirked too. "A lot more than we know about Spencer, that's for sure." He turned and brought up some more images on the screens. "But more importantly, we know that this morning Spencer bought two tickets for a flight to Orlando that's leaving in a few days, registered under Eliot and Gavin Spencer — Gavin is the nephew. They have tickets to Disney World for the next few days after that." Hardison turned back to Nate and crossed his arms. "He ain't hiding, that's for sure."

"Is he just that confident? Or careless? Or is he baiting someone?" Nate muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. "Surely he wouldn't bring his nephew along if he expected danger…" After another minute, he stood up straight and said to the whole team, "We need someone on that plane, someone to keep an eye on him after he gets off, and someone to run surveillance from Orlando."

Tara was grateful Hardison had arranged for her to get a seat near the very back of the plane. Normally she would have taken first class, but Spencer had flown a relatively cheap airline, and it didn't have first class. It was odd for a man who just received over $32 million to fly cheaply, and all Tara could figure was that he was hiding his wealth — and probably his occupation — from his family.

Spencer and his nephew were up near the front of the plane, far enough that they should have no reason to pay any attention to her. Spencer hadn't paid her much attention at the bar, but they weren't taking any unnecessary risks with him. From what she had been told, the only thing that had convinced him not to kill Leverage outright — or worse, deliver them to Moreau — was the opportunity to keep kids from getting hurt. How much more would he do if he thought they were threatening his own nephew?

But so far, everything had gone according to plan. She was sure everything would hit the fan at some point, but for now, Hardison and Nate were all set up in a Disney resort in Orlando (because Hardison insisted that they couldn't just stay in any old hotel in the vacation capital of the world), Parker was skulking around the Orlando airport, and Tara was sure Sophie was nervously hovering over Nate's shoulder while he worked. Nate was adamant that she especially did not go near Spencer. Though she had objected, saying she didn't need him to coddle her, Tara was pretty sure Sophie both appreciated the care and was relieved to stay out of the danger zone.

Tara soon caught sight of the stocky, long-haired man she had identified as Spencer a few days ago, but this time he wore clothes that blended in here. His nephew wore a big, goofy grin and carried an Incredibles backpack. Spencer himself seemed pretty relaxed and happy, and was talking animatedly with Gavin, though Tara couldn't hear what was being said. He didn't so much as glance at her as he slid into his seat, and she let out a little sigh of relief. Perhaps this flight would be uneventful. Still, it was a few hours long, so she wasn't going to let her guard down just yet.

When there was just under an hour of the flight left to go, Tara yawned as she perused one of the magazines she had brought. It wasn't particularly interesting — chosen because it would help her cover, not entertain her — but it was better than a book because it didn't actually require her focus. She could glance over it while still paying attention to events around her.

Or so she thought.

Halfway through a surprisingly interesting article, a man brushed up against her. She restrained the urge to jump in surprise. She heard the bathroom door close behind her, but something felt off. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she found it very difficult to return to her article. Her eyes immediately went to where she had been watching Spencer the whole flight — only to find he wasn't there.

As her pulse sped rapidly, she glued her eyes to the page and focused on calming her breathing and relaxing her shoulders. There were a lot of people on this plane. There was no guarantee he had recognized her, especially under her disguise. She didn't need to draw any extra attention by being nervous when she shouldn't have been.

Each second felt like minutes while she waited. Why did he come all the way to this back bathroom when he could have used the one up front? Hardison had prepared for this eventuality and ensured he would have no reason to come anywhere near her by making sure the bathroom up front would be closer. Except, as she squinted at the sign, she realized that one was full. What terrible timing.

And she didn't dare use her comm now to alert Nate, or she really would give herself away.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, a six-year-old-kid holding his uncle's hand practically skipped back toward his seat. Tara's eyes bored into Spencer's back, watching him move away from her and feeling the tension in her body release with every step he took. She was probably overreacting, she knew, but you just didn't mess around with Spencer.

As quietly as possible once he was back at the front of the plane, she whispered into her comm, "Nate, I may be blown."

* * *

 _To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

" _Nate, I may be blown."_

Those were the last words he wanted to hear. He sighed, and eyed the mini bar in the hotel room longingly. He most certainly did _not_ want to try to handle this situation drunk — and Hardison would probably kill him if he did — but Spencer was turning into a huge pain in his neck.

And yet.

There was still something in Nate's gut that said this whole situation was _wrong._

And Nate watched the room around him blur into another vision, seemingly of its own volition. That was odd. Normally these things were triggered by something specific. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to ponder that before the vision had fully hijacked his mind.

He was on a plane, speaking with the shadowy long-haired man he now knew to be Eliot Spencer, though Nate still couldn't really see his face.

"So, it's a hit," Nate felt himself say. That was also odd — he was never the first one to speak in his visions. "How does it play out?"

Spencer — no, Eliot, Nate remembered, because in this dream world he was a friend — looked grim. "If I was gonna do it, I'd have two guys on the ground at the gate, one guy on the plane to make sure she gets off."

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision retreated, and Nate felt himself crash back into the real world. What the…? Usually his visions had some sort of touch point in reality. It could be something someone said, or an action, or a thought…

That had to be it. A thought. But it wasn't Nate's thought this time, it couldn't be. If not Nate, then it had to be…

Nate shivered hard as he hissed into his comm, "Tara, are you okay? Can you see him? Are you in danger?"

" _I'm fine,"_ she whispered back, but he could practically feel the tension in her voice. She was scared, and so was he. Because she was right — she was blown.

Eliot thought there was going to be a hit on a plane. A hit on _him._

Somehow, he had identified Tara as a threat, and jumped to the conclusion that she was on the plane to make sure he got off, which meant there would also be someone in the airport to intercept him. Him _and his nephew._ And he wasn't wrong, because Parker was lurking around their landing gate, out of sight, but still there.

Nate groaned. This was falling apart fast. The last thing they wanted was for Eliot to feel under attack. Somehow, Nate didn't see him being cooperative again.

But now that he had gotten his team into this mess, he couldn't back down now. They needed to neutralize Eliot Spencer if they were to have any hope of taking down Moreau. And he wasn't going to put any of the rest of his crew in danger, so he was going to have to handle this himself. Carefully.

"Tara, listen to me. Abort. All of you, abort, do you hear me? Get as far away from Spencer as you can. Do _not_ make contact, do _not_ go anywhere near him, do not even go within his line of vision. Get out as soon as possible."

He raced out of the room toward his car. When Tara got off the plane, he needed to pick her up as soon as possible. He just hoped Spencer wouldn't try to track them down if things went badly.

* * *

Tara carefully controlled her breathing, staring at her hands and willing them to stop shaking. Spencer didn't look back at her, and to be honest, from this distance she couldn't honestly say she perceived any difference in his demeanor. Still, she couldn't help but feel like the whole atmosphere of the plane had changed.

For the rest of the flight, nothing could hold her attention for long. She was conscious of her staring, but there was little she could do to control it, and thankfully he was ahead of her so he should not be able to see. It didn't make her feel any better, though.

After one of the most tense landing sequences she had ever experienced, she watched Spencer stand to leave the plane with his nephew. He didn't glance back even once.

Tara waited until every single other person had deplaned before finally getting up. She held her head high and left with an air of dignity. She was a master grifter and she knew how to hide her emotions. She'd had plenty of experience hiding her revulsion when she had to seduce the scum of the earth, her elation when a plan came together, and her fury when someone beat her to it. Fear was just another emotion, another emotion that could be covered by a well-acted part. That was her specialty.

So Tara strode through the Orlando airport with purpose, hoping Parker was somewhere nearby, unless she had bolted at Nate's command. That would be the smart thing to do. Tara would have done it, so the little thief was probably twice as likely to disappear at the first sign of danger.

Tara rolled her eyes at the bright, busy Disney store on her way past airport security and stepped into the main area. It was extremely crowded, and it seemed everything was advertising some aspect of Florida tourism. She was actually starting to relax thanks to the familiar hubbub of the airport when her wrist was suddenly caught in an iron grip.

There was nothing that could stop the shiver from running through her body when the low Southern drawl reached her ears. "Don't make a scene." He seemed to assume she would obey because he didn't wait for an answer before he began guiding her over toward a family bathroom, no doubt because it was about the only isolated place available.

Nate's voice came through the comm. " _Is that him, Tara?"_ He sounded as tense as she felt.

She nodded, but then realized he couldn't see her. Or maybe he could, through cameras…? But she didn't dare communicate verbally, not after everything she had heard about the last run-in. Spencer knew about the comms, and anything might tip him off. She would just have to rely on Hardison to track her location.

Spencer guided her into the family bathroom, locked the door behind him, and leaned on it. She immediately scooted to the far opposite corner, as far away from him as she could get. Nevertheless, she held her head high and crossed her arms.

He simply stared at her, face as blank as the walls, hands hanging lazily at his sides.

She wasn't going to cower here like some frightened kitten. As far as he knew, all she was guilty of was being in a bar and in a plane. She poured all her nervous energy into irritation. "So are you going to explain what this is about or what?"

He gave just the slightest hint of a smile and his eyes swept over her before returning to meet hers with a steely glint. Then all of the smile was gone. "Who are you and who do you work for?"

"I don't work for anyone." Her tone was perfect and even, like she had practiced so many times. It was effortless by now.

"Don't make me hurt you because I _will._ I don't appreciate having my family threatened. And most importantly, I always know when people lie. You've been radiating lies ever since the bar in Oklahoma and I want to know the truth."

Now would be a good time for Nate to show up… But she sighed. She couldn't rely on him. Was there anything she could say to calm Spencer down?

He pushed himself off the door casually and stepped toward her.

"I would never hurt your family." She hated how fast the words came out of her mouth because they were just an instinctive reaction, not as carefully considered like she would have preferred.

He stopped moving and frowned, apparently confused, before narrowing his eyes at her. "First true thing I've heard you say. Are you following me for a reason?"

Nate's frantic voice came through her comm. " _Say whatever you need to say to get out of there safely, okay? I'm almost there, just hold on."_

She wasn't ready to give up just yet, but she would definitely keep that in mind. "Once is chance, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern." She smirked. "No pattern yet."

He nodded slowly as if thinking, and then before she could even register the movement, his hand shot out and pinned her right arm to the wall. His other hand pulled a ceramic knife out of his pocket… and toward her hand.

Her eyes shot open and she squirmed and struggled. "What the—"

"I know when someone is lying and _you are lying._ I want to know who you are working for right now or I will start taking off fingers." He didn't slow as he brought the knife up against her right pinky.

"Nate Ford!"

A tiny trickle of blood stained that white blade of his knife, but her words had frozen his hand. He glared at her as if he didn't quite believe her. "Ford?"

"Yes. It's Ford, he wanted to con you, needed a new face. He's paying me. But it's not worth…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes wandered over to his blade against her skin.

His hand clutched the knife until his knuckles turned white, but he finally pulled it away. "Give me your comm."

She immediately lifted her left hand to her ear, pulled it out, and held it out to him.

* * *

Nate knew he was driving like a maniac, but he didn't really care. He was not going to leave Tara at the mercy of Eliot Spencer. Not if there was anything at all he could do about it. Thankfully, she was in the main area outside of security, so Nate could reach her without having to go through he security nightmare.

" _Give me your comm."_

Nate heard the growly, male voice come over the comms and immediately ordered silence from his team. They would just have to communicate some other way while the hitter was listening in.

Eliot immediately announced himself. " _If you wanted to talk, Ford, you should have come yourself. I can't stand liars. Why are you after me?"_

Nate thought fast. What was he supposed to say, 'I need to get rid of you so I can take down your friend and boss?' Not a chance. So he stalled while he thought. "You can't stand liars… yeah, I get that. I'm sure you run into a lot of them in your line of work, don't you?"

" _Necessary evil."_ Eliot's icy voice was calm and quiet, and he spoke with finality. Almost as if he had given up on the issue.

"I bet you don't run into many honest men."

He gave a short, humorless laugh. " _Only honest people I meet are marks."_

"Except for me."

A pause. " _Except for you."_

Nate smiled a little, despite the whole situation. "I've, uh, I've heard you say you know when someone's lying. How… how do you know that?"

There was a delay, but finally he heard the gruff voice come through. " _It's a gift."_

Nate's first instinct was to assume it was a cop out answer. Except. _A gift._ Eliot could tell when people were lying. It was a gift — one he hadn't explained. Probably couldn't explain. Like… like Nate's visions.

It wasn't much, but he had succeeded on less.

"You're not the only one who has a gift." He waited for a response, but when it didn't come, he just kept talking. "See, I have a gift too. I don't know where it comes from, and I don't know what to do with it most of the time, but there is one thing I do know, more surely than I know anything else." He took a breath to collect himself, but was met with more silence. A little unnerved now, he continued. "We were never supposed to be enemies."

Finally, a response. It was an incredulous snort, and not, you know, _words,_ but at least Nate knew he was listening.

"Somehow, somewhere, you didn't hurt people. You protected them from people like you. And yeah, you were broken, you had done some bad things, but you knew you weren't only capable of destroying things. You wanted to create." Nate's voice cracked as he remembered a vision from a few days ago. "You can use your knife to create instead of destroy."

Nate didn't know if the silence meant Eliot was listening or ignoring him. When Eliot didn't speak, Nate did.

"In another world, you weren't my team's greatest danger. You were their greatest defender." He took a deep breath. "Listen to me, Eliot." There was a sharp intake of breath on another comm, but Nate couldn't tell which one. "You don't have to kill for Moreau anymore."

" _I don't."_ It was very soft, and Nate almost missed it .

And even though he did hear it, he wasn't quite sure he believed it. "I'm sorry, what?"

" _I know you like to hear yourself talk, Ford, but don't bother. I left Moreau."_

Nate wasn't quite sure what to make of the statement… or the tone of utter resignation that accompanied it. "…Why?"

" _That's the problem with being the good guy."_ He sighed. " _It gets under your skin."_ As he spoke, the road ahead of Nate blurred into a vision of McRory's bar, that time when the team was trying to convince him not to go back to his normal life after they took down Blackwell. Only, as usual, this time it included an extra member. An edge of bitterness crept into Eliot's voice and drew Nate back into the present. " _You get in people's heads. You got in_ _ **my**_ _head, and… and now, I'm… I'm different. I can't rid of you."_

Nate rarely found himself speechless, but he had no idea what to say to that. Who was this man and what had he done to Eliot Spencer? Nate knew he was good at what he did, but even he couldn't take responsibility for such a drastic change. The only answer he could come up with was that it was meant to be, and somehow, Nate had started Eliot on that path.

If he had gotten this far without even trying, there was no way he was going to let go of the hitter now. "Can we talk? Face to face, I mean. Let her go and we can meet somewhere."

A few seconds later, the voice that came through the comm was not Eliot's, but Hardison's. " _Tara's comm just went offline."_

"Last known location?"

" _Never moved. She's still in the same place he took her originally."_

"Or at least she was." Nate slammed the heel of his hand on the wheel of the car. They were making such good progress! Why had he just cut it off so abruptly? And without any warning? What had he done with Tara? "Hardison, I want eyes on her as soon as you possibly can. Him too, if you can manage it, but she's priority." If he had screwed up and gotten her killed, he would never forgive himself.

* * *

 _To Be Continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

As Nate approached the airport, his phone rang. He snatched it up immediately without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Nate, he's gone."

A flood of relief washed over him at Tara's voice. She sounded shaken, but she was alive, and apparently safe enough to call him. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"He was talking to you, and then he just crushed the earbud. Then he growled and said I could go. I thought he would demand something from me, or make an example…" Nate winced at the memory of how much Eliot had hurt Sophie, but worse, the absolutely mutilated body of Farrell after the last job. He wouldn't forget that for a very long time. "…But he just said to stay out of his way, and then he disappeared. I'm on my way so you can pick me up."

Once again, Nate could hardly believe it. Could it be true that Eliot really had changed, and because of his influence, no less? He couldn't argue with the results, though. He would just have to make sure it was genuine.

"Nate?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you there. Hardison, please tell me you have recordings of all of our interactions with Eliot on the Farrell job."

Hardison sputtered indignantly. "Excuse you? Of course I do, what— you think I don't do my job? C'mon, man, no respect…"

"Okay, find it so we can go through it again when I get back to the hotel. And see what you can do to keep track of Eliot."

Sophie's voice came over the comm. It was calm and soothing, that same voice she used when she was trying to talk sense into him. "Nate, why 'Eliot' all of a sudden? You speak of him as if you know him personally. Or, even worse, are actually _friendly_ with him." He caught the angry edge to her tone at the end of the last sentence but didn't say anything about it.

What was he supposed to say, anyway? In a way, he _did_ know Eliot personally, and _was_ friends with him. Nate may not have actually lived out his visions but they were strong enough that he could feel a remnant of the regard he held for that version of the hitter. Besides, he was making an effort, even in this world, to reach out to the man. But the rest of the team wouldn't understand. Only Sophie knew of the visions, and even she didn't take them seriously.

Unfortunately, _not_ giving an explanation would probably hurt her a lot, after everything she had suffered at Eliot's hands. Nate sighed. At _Spencer's_ hands. As the visions grew stronger and stronger over time, it got harder for Nate to keep them separate from reality. He was connecting the friend Eliot he felt like he knew with the enemy Spencer he actually knew. But that didn't have to be a bad thing, did it? Maybe his visions could become reality?

"Nate!" Sophie was quite exasperated now. "Are you even hearing me? I swear, sometimes it seems you're off in a separate world…"

"I hear you." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I'll explain once I get back to the hotel."

She sighed, but said nothing.

* * *

Back at the resort, Nate watched over Hardison's shoulder as the hacker brought up video footage of their collaboration with Eliot. Tara and Sophie had retreated to the room next door, where the ladies were staying, and Parker was overflowing with nervous energy that drove Nate crazy, so he had sent her along too. Now it was just him and Hardison.

"Look, man, I don't get why this is important. We all remember what happened — far too well, actually — so what good is this? I mean, it's very unsettling to watch it again."

"If it's difficult for us to watch, imagine Moreau's reaction when he discovers his top enforcer lied to him, helped his enemies, and then let them go."

Hardison turned to stare at him. "Are you telling me you want me to send this to _Damien Moreau_? Why?"

"Think about it: El— uh, Spencer says he left Moreau. Now, that could be true, or it could not be true. But if Moreau thinks Spencer betrayed him, it will be true either way pretty soon, won't it?"

Hardison nodded his head, starting to see where Nate was going. "Ensure he really can't go back to Moreau, whether he left and wants to change his mind later or he never left in the first place."

"Exactly. I mean, you were right, Hardison. We aren't equipped to deal with Spencer for good. But Moreau is. If Moreau takes out his top enforcer for us, we'll be one step closer to Moreau himself and short one Eliot Spencer."

A grin spread over Hardison's face. "Sweet, sweet revenge, with a healthy dose of irony."

"Yeah it's, it's an effective plan. But it's the best case scenario. Spencer might just disappear on his own, to avoid Moreau's wrath. In that case, we're still in good shape, because he won't be protecting Moreau, so it saves us a lot of trouble and we accomplish our main goal."

"But what if he comes after us again?"

Nate paused for a minute. "Somehow, I doubt that will be the case." Hardison looked skeptical, but Nate didn't give him time to ask another question. "The final possible outcome is that Spencer, in self-defense, actually goes against Moreau." Hardison's frown deepened, and Nate shrugged. "Just hear me out. Something made him want to leave Moreau. Now, it's possible that if Moreau goes after him, those two things put together might be enough motivation for him to turn on his former boss."

"I don't like it, Nate. We can't control him."

"Why does that matter if it means Moreau goes down?"

"He's right," said a low, gruff voice from the other side of the room.

Nate wrenched around to see the intruder and Hardison nearly jumped out of his skin. Just inside their hotel door, leaning against the wall nonchalantly, as if he belonged there, was Eliot Spencer.

Beside Nate, Hardison whispered into his comm. "Stay where you are." Nate knew he was worried about the rest of the team and didn't want them accidentally coming into a danger zone.

Spencer — _Eliot_ — seemed to hear him, but didn't respond. His eyes moved lazily back up to Nate. "It's a good plan."

Nate stood and stepped forward, between Eliot and Hardison, and crossed his arms. He adopted a stern tone and demanded, "How did you get here?"

"I figured you wouldn't be far from where I was staying, since I'm your mark. I watched until I found you, and then followed." He smirked. "But you're the one who said you wanted to talk face to face. So. Talk."

"You destroyed the earbud. I took it as a no."

"I needed time to think. And send my nephew somewhere safe."

Nate nodded, then glanced back down at Hardison, who was glaring daggers at Eliot even as he seemed to press himself as far down into the chair as he could. "Can, uh, can he go?" he asked, turning back to Eliot.

The hitter shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I thought he was busy working on your plan…?"

"I'm thinking it might not be necessary."

Eliot grinned dangerously. "Or it could be absolutely necessary. Depending on how much you trust me to tell the truth."

"Go, Hardison." It was a deliberate show of trust, and Nate hoped Eliot would see it as such and live up to it. Hardison gaped at him, silently communicating _Are you crazy?_ But he did as told, and stepped out of the room, leaving Nate alone with Eliot. Nate raised an eyebrow at the hitter. "You aren't going to stop me from revealing your actions to your boss?"

"He ain't my boss anymore." He smiled more naturally this time. "And besides, it's actually pretty well thought out. Woulda expected nothing less from you." He grew serious again. Not the scary kind of serious, but the earnest kind. "What did you want with me?"

"You of all people know how evil Moreau is. I've made it my mission to bring down scum like him, whatever it takes. After the last job, I could tell I wasn't going to get anywhere as long as you were protecting him, so I had to get you out of the way." Eliot's face remained impassive, as if he weren't surprised by any of this. Actually, he probably wasn't. Nate may be the first to go after Moreau with pure motives, but surely many people had tried to get rid of him. How many of them had been finished by this man in front of him? How close had Nate gotten to that very same fate? It was unnerving, to say the least.

And then another thought occurred to him — what would it be like to have Eliot defending good guys like Nate, instead of criminals like Moreau?

"I don't have a problem with you personally," Nate continued, softer now. He knew his team was probably listening in and would be very unhappy with that statement, but right now all that mattered was Eliot. Nate had to convince Eliot to choose a different path. And right now he seriously believed he could do it. "If you told me the truth about leaving Moreau, then I will do as you ask and stay out of your way."

Eliot narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "But…? Get to the point, Ford."

The decisive lack of tangible threat made Nate significantly more confident. Maybe he was getting to Eliot after all. "I told you I have a gift too. I have visions," he said earnestly. "And I have seen you as a member of my team. A trusted member, one who had found a home and a family and meaning in life beyond all the selfishness and brutality that had surrounded him throughout his career." He paused to let that sink in. "I know you have the money to do whatever you want, and if that's what you're after, I can offer you much more." He softened his voice even further. "But I don't think that's really what you want, is it?"

Eliot sighed heavily. Finally, he said, "No, it isn't."

Nate smiled a little. He doubted this Eliot would outright tell him what he really did want. In fact, this Eliot likely didn't _know_ what he wanted. But Nate had seen a different side. "Don't you feel a little bit too free?"

He looked confused, but didn't say anything, so Nate explained. "You don't have to work for anyone anymore and you have so much money you may never need to work again. So what do you do with yourself?"

Eliot just crossed his arms and stared.

"What _do_ you plan on doing with yourself?"

His stare flattened. "I suppose you have some sort of offer for me?"

"I've seen the man you can be. And my team needs a hitter." He paused, suddenly a bit more unsure of himself. This was the last minute to back out. Once the invitation was out…

But Eliot apparently got tired of his hesitation. "Are you asking me to join your crew?"

"Well, I mean," he shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Yeah."

"I work alone. I always work alone." This vision was only a snapshot, just an instant long, but it was there. That first mission, the one Dubenich hired them for. Eliot was reluctant to work even one job, but afterward…

Afterward he was practically begging to stay.

"Give me one mission," Nate bargained, his confidence regained. "Just one. You already said being the good guy gets under your skin. You enjoyed it, didn't you? At least enough to be willing to give it another chance?"

He seemed to deflate. "I'm a _bad_ guy, Ford. I can't help you."

Nate grinned. "Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys."

Eliot watched him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. As if he were actually considering it.

"One show only," Nate whispered. "No encores." Nate knew it would be more than that once the hitter actually gave it a try.

Eliot frowned in confusion, but it quickly faded. After a minute, he nodded with finality. "Might as well. It's not like I can go back to Moreau."

Nate could barely contain his sheer joy. Eliot Spencer, one of the most feared people in the world, had left Moreau out of the blue and joined Leverage, Inc. Now more than ever, Nate was convinced this was the way it was meant to be. It would take a while for the team to warm up to him, and in fact, they would likely be opposed to the idea at first. But if even Eliot could come around, so could they.

* * *

Eliot didn't leave after the first mission. Or the next. Or the one after that. The other members of the team had been reluctant to trust him, but he threw himself into his work and took more than a few beatings for their sake. Over time, he became an essential part of the team.

Now that Nate had a hitter, he could take on even more dangerous targets. More and more bad guys fell due to the actions of Leverage, Inc., and it wasn't long before Nate was convinced they could take on Moreau himself.

It wasn't easy. Eliot tried to use his old friendship with Moreau to get in without too much trouble, but he ended up in a warehouse facing his greatest nightmare. With the people he had come to regard as second family on the line, he crossed a line he hadn't in a very long time. He took his most hated weapon and killed every single one of Moreau's hitters — including Chapman. It was therapeutic, almost, like he was literally killing his past, and leaving it behind him in that warehouse. The team successfully overthrew the corrupt government of San Lorenzo, put Moreau in prison, and stabilized the country. And Eliot felt an incredible burden lift from his shoulders as the last vestiges of his past life disappeared, and he was completely and only a member of Leverage.

As time went on, Nate had fewer and fewer visions. Sometimes he would have them and could barely tell them from reality, because everything was beginning to merge. It was as if some rift in time was healing. And after the defeat of Moreau, he never had another vision. He didn't need them, though. His team was back together, and he knew that was all he needed.

As he watched the hitter banter back and forth with the rest of the team, he couldn't help but think of the words of one of Eliot's old country songs…

 _If you can walk away from a crash and burn, you'll appreciate every step you earn._

Eliot had earned his redemption, had earned his place on the team, and had earned his way into the hearts of all of its members. Just like Nate had seen, Eliot was no longer their most dangerous threat but was their beloved protector.

And Nate knew, deep down, that all was as it should be.

* * *

 _The End..._

* * *

A/N: The song mentioned is Clint Black's "Half Way Up."


End file.
